


Millennium Falcon

by rossequartzz



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angry Kylo Ren, Angst, F/M, Han Solo Lives, Jedi Ben Solo, Kylo Ren Backstory, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Millennium Falcon - Freeform, Minor Leia Organa/Han Solo, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sick Character, Teen Romance, Young Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 14:02:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6378928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rossequartzz/pseuds/rossequartzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two times (Y/N) was held by a Solo on board of the Millennium Falcon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Millennium Falcon

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty, this started as an idea and ended up a bit different from what i intended? Anyway, I hope you enjoy this! And I hope I did justice to Kylo Ren's personality/at least not too OOC. As always, constructive criticism is more than welcome and please, mind my first language is not English.

“Put on your cloak, Ben. Space is cold.” Han spoke, not averting his gaze from the main console. He pulled on the main hyperdrive control expecting the ship to react. When his _baby_ seemed not to be in the mood to respond he groaned in frustration and looked at his son, expecting a few words of reassurance. Instead, he seemed to be too distracted to have noticed his father’s failed attempt to jump into the hyperspace.

_~~So much of Vader in him.~~ _

_Han longed for his little Ben’s fondness._

_But as much as it hurt, his little Ben was long gone. And a desperate man, damaged, struggling with his own demons and fighting the pain of having someone crumble in his arms, was sitting in the co-pilot seat._

_A Skywalker, he was. Han also worried that he would have inherited all of his worst traits. He wished...no, he begged the Maker he didn't. Ben didn’t deserve to feel as foolish as the smuggler felt every single day, as he powerlessly watched his wife attempting to maintain a rebellion alive._

Ben’s lips were pressed against (Y/N)’s hand. Keeping their fingers entwined, the boy kissed every inch of her skin, specially focusing on her knuckles. He tightened his grip on her fingers and somehow, (Y/N) weakly squeezed in response.

Han’s lips curled up in a small smile that washed off his annoyance. He wished Leia could see the way Ben contemplated the girl. _It wasn’t right for Jedi to have attachments_. At least, that’s what he thought. Yet, Han was anything but a father after all and seeing his son so genuinely worried about someone, made his heart swell and jump in joy. For a second, all these sleepless nights both Leia and him shared, thinking about the possibility of their child being seduced to the Dark Side, didn’t matter. He couldn’t be, his son was _too kind_. No one with an ounce of darkness could be as affectionate as Ben was towards (Y/N). Han chose to ignore Luke’s warnings. There was no way he was an aggressive, incensed boy.

“I’m fine.” The younger Solo answered, rather harshly, making Han shrug. He squeezed the slumberous body against his chest. She was trembling and shaking. He lowered her fragile hand and covered it with part of his cloak, which was wrapped tightly around her weakened frame. Her face was nuzzled in the crock of his neck and her head was resting against his shoulder. Ben’s fingers traced soothing patterns on her back as he whispered to her, so gently and quietly Han couldn’t understand a single word. Despite of being fast asleep in his arms, she was still in pain. Ben cursed himself for not making sure that these useless medical droids had given her a dose of painkillers. The heat coming from her high body temperature and her damp forehead against his cold skin reminded him that, in fact, she could be dying in his arms.

(Y/N)’s flu had gotten out of control. In matter of days she had lost a few pounds and her fever wouldn’t descend. She couldn’t stand in bed and barely ate. And if she did get some food, it wouldn’t last too long before her body got rid of it. His _beloved_ (Y/N) was malnourished and the medical personnel at the Temple couldn’t do anything but watch how slowly her body gave up on fighting. Ben stayed by her side ever since she was admitted to the hospital area, only leaving for his mandatory training or bringing her food. He made sure the girl was properly fed, almost threatening a few nurses that, in his eyes, did a poor job taking care of (Y/N). He… _hated_ them for that. These women were _undeserving_ of their lives if (Y/N) didn’t make it.

If their incompetence caught him in an especially bad mood or (Y/N)’s worsening condition, his threats would get out of hand. Blinded by his fear of losing his _friend_ , Ben Solo couldn’t be stopped nor calmed, not even by his own uncle. _Unpredictable_ , the only reason they let him be her _guard dog._

Neither would he hesitate before unhooking his lightsaber from his belt. With an enraged hand motion, a blue shaft would flare to life. He kept the weapon close enough to his bare skin, letting himself get hurt by the heat emanating from his saber. Such a sensation was almost pleasant to him. Ben felt the same agony (Y/N) was feeling having needles attached to her arms in an attempt to keep her going through. _He wouldn’t abandon her, not even let her be in pain all by herself._ His groans and the incessant lightsaber cracking would wake her up, dragging (Y/N) from her peaceful slumber to encounter his frustration.

The next thing she would remember was a blue band being raised high, Ben limbering his wrist and spinning his lightsaber over his head. (Y/N) always feared his fighting technique. She believed that one day he would hurt himself being so reckless, and every time he came back to her with his head attached to his body, she could breathe again.

Ben would slash droids, metal walls and perhaps even cutting through medical instruments. Always leaving deep and long lines of bleeding metal, carving his anger in the depths of the room. After the havoc, the hum of his weapon would cease. Trembling, Ben faced her.

The bed where (Y/N) lied was far enough from his vehemence. She gazed at him, surrendering, tears streaming down her cheeks and silently pleading for him to stop. His lightsaber was put where it belonged, clasped on his belt, and he dragged himself to beg for her forgiveness. The faceless voice that haunted every though in his mind; the chant that took advantage of every single passionate emotion his heart would be engulfed in, encouraged him. They promised he would find bravery in torture, respect in fear and only through imposing himself to that puny medical crew, (Y/N) could be saved.

Such a powerlessness that the doctors displayed infuriated him. (Y/N) knew that. Yet, she wished he had another way of expressing his wrath.

He wasn’t going to sit watch (Y/N) suffer and battling for her life. In order to help her, after what seemed years of abhorrence, Ben contacted his father and commanded him to take them to Hosnian Prime, where Leia was. Ben knew the exquisite Senate medical team will do something about (Y/N)’s state and he was willing to make a deal with the Devil himself just to keep her alive and well. And such a sacrifice, to him, was stepping on his loathing for the man he had to call “father”. He found himself pleading for help, because for once, he wasn’t able to protect her by himself.

Making sure she was safely wrapped in a few blankets, Ben almost kidnapped her. He didn’t ask anyone before unplugging the heart rate monitor out of her finger. The boy just embraced her and rushed to where the Millennium Falcon had just landed. (Y/N) didn’t understand where was she carried, and she used the little strength remaining to hold on Ben’s neck, sighing as her head dropped on his shoulder. Instinctively, Ben’s hand cupped the back of her neck, keeping her still.

“You could wrap a few more blankets around her and cover yourself with your cloak.” Han tried to reason with his son, but he was cut by the raven haired boy with a glare and a guttural growl.

“I’m not going to startle her again.”

“Chewie could bring you these blankets, you don’t need to move.”

“No, dad.” The deepness of Ben’s voice made him realize he wasn’t a child anymore. In fact, the squishy round face he memorized as his son’s image disappeared long ago. His features had sharpened. His cheek bones were more prominent, his lips were fuller and contrasted with his pale skin. Freckles and beauty marks decorated his face and his large ears were hidden by his now long and slightly disheveled raven black locks. Ben didn’t have his padawan braid anymore, something that meant he had archived a Jedi knight status. He was so much taller and his psyche was built thanks to the endless hours of harsh training Luke must have made his nephew endure.

Whether he liked it or not, his son was an adult. Such a realization woke up many questions in Han, the main regarding the sleeping girl in Ben’s tight hold.

“What kind of relationship do you guys have?”

Ben furrowed his brows and before answering, he made sure (Y/N) was still fast asleep. Gazing at the tenderness of her face, the boy just stocked her cheek and grinned at her sleepy reaction. He looked up at Han, encountering a pair of worried eyes. The elder Solo felt cold sweat drops roll down his spine and his mouth dried. He wasn’t expecting to have… a _sincere_ talk with his son. Let alone on a trip like _this._ “What do you mean?”

“Are you dating?” Han swallowed a lump in his throat. Ben arched a single brow not wanting to think about where his father could be heading. “Have you taken her out? Like... to a fancy dinner, son?” Han couldn’t find the proper words to ask him about that. Ben was old enough, though. It was the father who struggled with his own awkwardness and self-consciousness about bringing out such a topic. _The_ Han Solo was an open man, yet, not with the son he hadn’t seen in years and whose last conversation was about his mother. The man gathered all of his audacity and tensed his body, ready to ask _the question_ “Have you… you know…” His face grew hotter and he felt himself blush under Ben’s confused and perhaps somewhat terrified gaze “It’s natural to… _desire_. No need to be ashamed, son.” An awkward silence embraced both men, before the elder one dropped the bomb. “Have you been sleeping toge—“.

“DAD.”

“Is that an yes or a no?”

“That’s an _I’m not going to answer. That’s private._ ”

“Alright.” Han chuckled, pointing at (Y/N). “But the fading marks on her neck say otherwise.” Ben blinked and gasped. “Don’t look at me like that. I branded that. You indeed are a child of mine. Still have to learn how to be more subtle, but you’ve done a good job. ” The younger Solo rolled his eyes and blushed, ignoring his father’s satisfied smirk. He couldn’t believe he had been asked about something so intimate in such a situation. Ben felt torn between getting mad at his father for not being serious when he needed him to act like an adult or to play along.

(Y/N)’s head shifting on his shoulder brought him back to reality. One in which he was holding his sick _lover_ and taking her somewhere she could receive the attention she needed so desperately. The girl’s eyes fluttered open. Ben held her so close, he could feel her eyelashes brush against the skin of his neck. (Y/N) lifted her head and looked up at him, smiling lovingly. His hand cupped her cheek and his thumb caressed her warm skin.

“We are on board of the Millennium Falcon.” Ben murmured, gently, forcing himself to sound as calm as he could. “I’m going to make this right, (Y/N).” his calloused fingers, as a mark of someone devoted to lightsaber dueling, pushed away a few rebellious strands of her hair. “I promise you’ll be alright.”

“I will.”

Ben hesitated _for once_. Having his father watching the scene made him uncomfortable. Yet again, he was willing to thrown in the towel. _He did it for her. And he would do it again and again._

He leaned in and brushed his cold lips against (Y/N)’s burning forehead. The contact of his skin sent a pleasant sensation through her body. She closed her eyes, sighing in serenity. Ben pressed his forehead against hers, and not letting Han hear him at his weakest, _he thought:_

_“I love you.”_

_“I know.”_

* * *

 

_“Liar.”_

_“Perhaps I am. Yet you are the one blinded by the light. So innocent ... so naive to believe that I had an ounce of good in me.”_

* * *

 

Every step he took getting closer to the cockpit of that ramshackle Corellian ship opened a new wound on his skin.

As if wherever her fingers had been marked his face like a plasma blade would do. Her giggle echoed in his mind. The Knight fought against the pleasurable feeling of her voice drifting away his sanity . After too many years of futile war against his desires, Kylo Ren _surrendered_ to Ben Solo’s weakness. And the light _pulled him_ back to where he belongs, _called him_ , _begged him_ to come home.

Small, thin, ghost fingers caressed Ren under the thick metal of his mask. 

He was thankful for the breathing apparatus that concealed his pathetic sobs. The Knight leaned on the pilot seat, commanding his shoulders to stop shaking, to stop making him look _vulnerable._ A bloodthirsty murderer as himself didn’t... couldn’t feel such petty emotions as melancholy or longing. 

_Kylo Ren couldn’t fully destroy Ben Solo._

But he knew what he had to do if he wanted to bury the miserable name he was given at birth.


End file.
